


Fireworks

by poetfaery



Series: Kiss Of Frost [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Cute Ending, Decisions, F/M, Jack's POV, Memories, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetfaery/pseuds/poetfaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Rory"- Jack Frost takes the new spirit, Autumn, to meet the other Guardians, and she makes her decision- should she get her memories back or not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> My friend and I have created a post-movie canon where there are three other seasonal spirits, each created a hundred years after the last, the final one being Autumn.  
> One of her powers is talking to animals and they all basically love her, which shows.  
> Also, the nightmare wolves are from the RotG game; I like them a lot more than the horses. (Really, Pitch? Ponies?)

        I don’t think I saw that right. Did she just…  _hug_  him?

        The girl with the fiery hair, the new season spirit, pulls away from the embrace she’s just given Pitch. A wind, gentler than the one I know, kicks her back across the clearing towards me. When she gets close, she leans in to the nightmare wolf she’d called Rory. Her soft words don’t reach me, but her expression is one of pure serenity. A moment later, the wolf licks her cheek and lopes off towards its maker. The wind stirs up again gently as she whispers into her cupped palm and releases it in Pitch’s direction, like blowing a kiss, before turning and skipping up to me with a bright smile.

        “So,” I say carefully, twirling my staff as I study her, “Do you have a name?”

        She shrugs, and a soft half-smile touches her lips. “‘Autumn’ works.”

        I laugh. "Welcome to the over-literal name society. You'll fit right in." Squinting against the light that has begun to wobble over the treetops, I try to gauge the distance to the North Pole, then shake my head with a sheepish chuckle. Way too far to walk, definitely. I turn back to Autumn, who regards me in silent expectation, bobbing up and down on her toes.

        “You wouldn’t happen to be able to fly, would you?” I’m eager to avoid the use of North’s vertigo-inducing snow globes.

        The girl shrugs, eyes full of barely contained laughter. “Maybe. It’s been one of those days.” She flashes me a dimpled grin. “One way to find out!” With the curl of a finger, she beckons her wind to her side, the soft breeze at first rustling her hair, scarf and lace-paneled dress, then growing stronger.

        With a surprised laugh, I summon my own wind, springing into the clear sky. “Race ya!”

        Winds are nothing if not competitive.

        Autumn’s wind launches her up; she rockets into the sky with a surprised yelp. All sense of balance and equilibrium is destroyed as she tumbles upwards in a flurry of red. As if that isn't surprising enough, my heart nearly stops as she suddenly explodes into a flurry of leaves. Thankfully, after a minute she reforms, though still with no control over her trajectory. My wind keeps pace with hers as we shoot northwards, Autumn’s eyes growing wider and more panicked.

        I grab for her hand, drifting close enough for the winds to touch. At first they resist, pushing themselves apart like matching poles on a magnet, then thinning to the abrasive scrape of two pieces of sandpaper. After a moment, though, the winds melt into each other, and we're no longer separated. Her wind’s fury dies down and I can finally grasp Autumn’s hand and steady her. She wobbles, only the wind and my hand keeping her upright, her breathing as light and quick as a sparrow’s heartbeat. A rogue finger of wind snakes off of our combined stream and nudges on the small of her back, just hard enough to push her sideways, straight into my arms.

        My hand automatically drops from hers to curl around her back protectively. Autumn buries her face in my chest and presses a warm hand to my heart. Suddenly, a picture of a green field sneaks its way into my mind, along with a thin shudder of a whisper:  _please?_

        I immediately begin a gliding descent, at the same time blinking incredulously at the top of her head.  _How…?_

        I think by now we’re over Iceland, and a field opens up in a slow roll below us. When we touch ground at last, with a soft reassertion of gravity, Autumn clings to me for a moment more, shivering. Finally, she lifts her head and grants me a small half-smile. Her bright eyes are a stunning blend of leaf gold and spring green, and looking down at her, I suddenly realize just how close we are to each other.

        “Well,” I say, a bit too loudly. “Guess flying’s out, then.”

        Her fingers uncurl from my sweatshirt, leaving little dents in the fabric, and she steps back with a small laugh. “It’s not so bad.” I snort, incredulous, and she grins, glancing up at me. “So long as we go a bit  _slower_.”

        I rub the back of my neck. “How did you do the, uh…?” I motion vaguely to my head.

        She bites her lip and ruffles her hair sheepishly. “Sorry. I can talk to animals like that. I didn’t even know if I could do it with a person, but I was a bit overwhelmed.”

        “I know what you mean.” I lean on my staff and she looks up at me. “My first try flying wasn’t exactly what you’d call  _smooth_.” The memory of the exhilarating but painful first flight around my pond merits a fond smile. “So. How about we try again?”

        She hesitates for a moment, then takes my outstretched hand. This time we call our winds and they immediately merge together. Hand in hand, we glide towards North’s workshop, Autumn exclaiming in delight over everything below and causing me to actually notice it all for the first time in 300 years.

        It isn’t long after, though, that the wind whipping around us is thick with flurries of snow, and tiny shivers tremble up my arm from where it’s linked with Autumn’s. I bundle her close and urge on the winds, hastening us to the immense wooden door of North’s home.

        We land, I pull it open, and she curtsies quickly with a laugh before darting inside, dancing around patches of snow in her bare feet. Sliding in after her, I show her to the globe room, wherein lies a giant globe marked with the curling script of the Guardians and a billion points of golden light, and four workaholics.

        Bunny starts grumbling as soon as he spots my white hair in the doorway. “Oi, Frost, your excuse had better be good, and not just another one of your bloody-- Right, then. Who’s this?”

        Autumn peeks out from behind me, tugging on a copper twist of hair. “Hi.”

        Her sweet voice bounces around the huge room for a moment before the hush is broken by North’s booming laugh. “Jack, you found friend!”

        Tooth flutters around excitedly, her mini-faeries squeaking. “Is she a new spirit?”

        “No, Tooth, teenage girls are just  _really_  into Santa Claus these days.” When everyone looks at me blankly, I roll my eyes. “ _Yes_ , she’s a new spirit.”

        Autumn steps out from behind me, all four-foot-eleven of her brimming with excitement. “Um, Autumn. I’m Autumn.”

        Tooth gives a delighted squeal and darts over, taking Autumn’s hands, and soon the pair is thronged with twittering mini-faeries. “It’ll be so great to have another girl around!” With a sweeping glance, Autumn takes in the “boys”- Sandy, North, Bunny and I- and a mischievous light glints in her eyes. She whispers something to Tooth that makes the faerie start giggling, and the male population of the room begins to shift uneasily, knowing all too well that they are the ones being whispered about.

        So I make introductions. It seems that Autumn can understand Sandy’s picture-thoughts well, and apparently finds him  _hilarious_. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so smug. Bunny, being a pooka but still essentially, well, a  _bunny_ , also takes well to her, perhaps because of whatever animal-whispering powers she has, and his use of sarcasm is much lighter than usual. The Guardians are less than surprised to hear that her memory is completely gone, after going through the same thing with me and Apollo. But they listen politely and with much interest as she recounts her awakening in the forest that morning and meeting me and Pitch. Likewise, Autumn listens politely through North’s diatribe about “finding your Center” before informing him with a bright smile that her Center is definitely Change.

        That would explain a lot, actually.

        The only spirit missing is Apollo, the spirit of summer, but even considering introducing the arrogant spirit to Autumn makes me… almost  _mad_. It’s bad enough that she had to meet Pitch. Though it didn’t seem like she minded him all that much.

        When the excitement is over, though, and all have drifted away to his or her realm, Tooth with the assurance that Autumn can drop by anytime for her memories if she wants them, Autumn glides over to me with a strange expression. She lifts her chin and her face reveals thoughtfulness, as well as…  _sadness_. I’m almost surprised that this little sprite can  _be_  sad. “Where do I go from here, Jack?”.

        I lean in with a conspiratorial smile and hand her a snow globe. “Wherever you want.”

 

 

        Somehow, we end up at my pond, which is currently a clear, rippling blue ringed with green trees, the world still bright and warm under Apollo’s summer thrall. With a wave of my staff, the pond returns to its frozen state, and all is right with the world. Autumn immediately targets the trees, leaping from one to another or practicing dancing through the branches as bright autumn leaves. Everywhere she touches turns to fireworks: brilliant explosions of red, orange and golden yellow light the trees, and a pleasant crispness threads through the air.

        I skate around the pond blissfully, keeping half an eye on her antics and every now and then contributing my own detail: the brush of frost on the delicate blades of grass, maybe, or a gust of wind shaking some of Autumn’s leaves to a bright carpet on the ground. 

        “Catch!”

        I spin in a neat circle and catch the projectile unthinkingly. A large yellow apple rests in my cupped palms.

        Autumn stands giggling on the shore, a large bite already missing from her own.

        “How…?” A second later, I realize that I’d asked her the same thing only a few hours before.  _It probably won’t be the last time, either,_  I think, with a wry twist of my lips.

        She tilts her head, motioning behind her. “Convinced an apple tree to bloom a little early.” She grins, dimpling, and gestures with the hand holding the apple. “Try it!”

        Obediently, I dip my head and bite in. The apple is cool and fresh, glinting gold in the sun. It tastes like candy. With a jolt, I realize that I can’t remember the last time, in the past 300 years, that I’ve had an apple, and I savor every bite.

        When I finish, Autumn takes me by the hand, sending into my thoughts a picture of Tooth accompanied by the emotional equivalent of an exclamation point. “Can we go?” she asks, face alight. A slow blush begins to burn on my cheeks as I nod, and she fishes the globe out of the bushes where she left it.

        “Tooth Palace!” The globe spins through the air and disappears, leaving behind a hole in the scenery. Inside we can see the grand golden spires within the mountain of Tooth’s domain. Autumn takes my hand again, her smile bright but her eyes nervous, almost scared. “Well?” she asks, drawing herself up. “Let’s go!”

        Together we spin through an impossible portal and into a new world.

 

 

        The water of the memory pool ripples gently, caressed by Autumn’s calm winds. She simply stands by its edge, staring intently at the narrow golden box in her hands, expressions varied and unreadable. As with all of the boxes, hers bears a picture of herself as a child, a dimpling girl with turquoise eyes and dark hair. The spirit beside me stands perfectly still, aside from her fingers, which stroke the box softly. Suddenly, Autumn turns to me, expression hard and questioning.

        “Is it worth it?”

        Taken aback by the forcefulness of the question, I nod, slowly. “I thought so; I was happier than anything when I got my memories back. Apollo chose not to take them back, though. It’s your decision, Autumn.”

        “But what if…“ She clutches the box tightly. “What if this makes me different? If who I used to be was a completely different person, then… who I am now would be lost, right?”

        I stand in silence, watching the internal battle play itself out in emotions across her face. After a minute, though, her expression sharpens into determination. She drops down onto the grass, stroking her thumb across the top of the box and letting it settle in the center. Then she tilts her head, giving me one final wink before pressing the box open. “See you on the other side, Jack.” The colored panels twirl and retreat into the box, and Autumn’s lids fall closed as her life plays before her eyes.

        A few minutes later, a small drop glints on her right cheek and her green-gold eyes flutter open, curiously bereft of any other tears. I stride over and crouch beside her. “You okay?”

        She gives a choked laugh and rubs away the tear. “It was life.” She stares down at the inside of the little box and the miniscule white teeth all lined up in a row. “Awful… and wonderful.” Her voice is a little different, deeper maybe. Fiercer. More complete. More  _Autumn_.

        She gazes up at me, a new depth of understanding evident in her eyes. “Hello.”

        “Hello,” I echo, my heart pounding sharply. “See, you didn’t really change much at all.”

        “Oh, didn’t I?” Her mouth twists in a sharp grin, and she looks all at once like a forest sprite, a mischievous pixie come to steal hearts and apples, leaving fiery leaves in her wake.

        “Jack?” she asks, leaning closer. “This morning, the first time we flew. A wind pushed me straight into your arms. Now, I was nearly senseless, so whose wind do you think it was?”

        My eyes widen and my face burns as I realize what she means. Her eyes sparkle as she darts forward and kisses me on the nose. In a quick motion, she’s standing, finger crooked, scarf fluttering, smile sweet and shy. “Well,” she says, tossing me my staff. “Race ya.”

 


End file.
